I had all intentions of writing a blog about baldness, but that will be a different story for a different day.

As we all know, I have PCOS. On my journey to motherhood, there were billions of tears spilled, numerous sleepless nights, an abundance of self-doubt and self- hatred, too many invasive tests, a great deal of physical pain, and of course a multitude of prayers. Then my babies came. I have never once since my son has been born, questioned my ability to be a mom. Even when postpartum depression hit, and believe me, it hit hard, I never questioned myself. Yesterday that all changed. I actually told my husband that I think God may have made a mistake in answering my prayers.

I am not patient with my children or my husband for that matter. I am not patient with myself. I know that my PCOS is in overdrive right now. I know that I have to take better care of myself. I realized last night that I need to start taking some time for myself, and doing things for me. Lately, I can’t wait for my two amazing, funny, loving children to go to bed. I just want to sit on the couch and watch some mind numbing TV show, so I can for 30-60 minutes, lose myself in an alternate reality, or aimlessly scroll through apps on my phone until my vision blurs.

I am a member of a PCOS support group. I read daily posts from women struggling to either become pregnant or stay pregnant. Women and their partners who have been trying for up to 15 years to be parents. I read as they break down, give up, and refuse to stop fighting. I read and I cry. How did I become so lucky? Why was I chosen to be a mommy?

It’s so easy for me to say, “Life is full of stress, stupid shit is always going to happen, money comes and money goes, don’t sweat the small stuff, they’re only kids…” Believe me, I tell myself these things all of the time. I truly want to accept these words as truths, but some dark, unhappy voice inside of me won’t allow it. I’m assuming it’s the same voice that drove me to questioning whether or not I should be a mom.

So, back to yesterday. As I sat, tears welling up, my son grabbed a tissue and put one arm around me while blotting my tears. My daughter put down her mac and cheese and climbed onto my lap and kissed my tear-stained cheeks. They had no idea that those tears were for them; that I was angry with myself and heartbroken over how I have been interacting with them. All they knew was that their mommy was sad and needed a hug. That’s the moment when my babies made me realize that I was made to be their mommy.

I am going to start to take some time for myself and not feel guilty about it. I am also going to : allow for more time (start tasks a little earlier), “be all there” (no more multitasking,) take mommy time-outs when I’m overwhelmed, remind myself how small my kids really are and how much I truly love and cherish them, yell less, lower my expectations for myself, my husband, and my kids, and lastly smile more.

*I didn’t write this post in attempts to acquire a bunch of reassuring, supportive comments about what a great mom I am. I know that I’m an “OK” mom, who tries her best, and just gets overwhelmed a bit too frequently. I wrote this because I needed to say it. I started this blog when I decided it was time to overhaul myself. I didn’t mean only my physical appearance. I have a shitload of work to do people!!! Thanks for listening.